


Tastes Like Poison, Feels Like Heaven

by waytoobomb



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Evil, F/M, Manipulation, Revenge, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7154147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waytoobomb/pseuds/waytoobomb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire decides to destroy Francis. Edward is her first move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tastes Like Poison, Feels Like Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU to what may have happened after the end of Episode 3, Season 4 if Claire had been feeling just a little bit more evil.

 

 

A million things rushed through Claire’s head as she walked out of the house. Francis’ words still echoed in her mind-

_You don’t deserve it._

 

_You have no idea what it means to have nothing._

_You don’t value what we have achieved._

Claire had known Francis would react that way, although some foolish part inside of her wanted to believe that he wouldn’t.  She remembered the way Tom Yates described what she said when the blood spilled out of her faster than her body could react.

_I hate how much I need Francis._

That part was all of the truth. She hated herself when she realized what she had become when she allowed Francis to play with her UN position like a toy. When she had begun to feel more like a pawn of Francis’ game rather than the mind behind it. She had always believed that she was Francis’ engine, but she had been lying to herself. She was important, but only when he wanted her to be.

She and her husband had worked 30 years for this dream, to rule the free world, but now that she had it, it felt so oddly empty and cold. And while she had blamed Francis for not being enough, she also blamed herself even more for not realizing sooner. But maybe it took these conditions for her to realize just how she fit into Francis’ life.

Claire’s time away to think at home in Texas had changed her perspective. It took a lot for her to swallow her own feelings of resentment against her husband and propose to work with him as a running mate. She worried about him trying to control her, to maneuver her. That’s why she wanted to leave him in the first place. But, like suicide, a divorce was the weak way out. Instead, she would do exactly what Francis wouldn’t expect- demand power and not give him an option to say no. If she wanted to be seen as an equal, she had to be treated as such. But he had angrily dismissed her like she was foolish, and she now had no choice but to ruin him until he came to his senses.

Claire opened the door quietly and stepped outside into the cool night air. She had called for a flight back to Texas and figured that she would only have a few minutes of spare time to talk to a man that was a vital piece in tearing down Francis. She thoroughly believed that the ones closest to you made the most painful enemies- which is why she needed the man who spent every waking hour with her husband on her side.

She saw the Secret Service agent as soon as she had stepped out the door. He was waiting, expectantly, patiently, like always.

“Edward! It’s nice to see you,” she greeted, smiling at him. She watched as his facial expression flashed from happy to tense, undoubtedly because he remembered the war between the two spouses that he was caught in between. “Hello, Mrs. Underwood,” he said, quietly and dismissively. Claire still held her smile and hesitated for a minute, expecting that Edward would say something else. Instead, he looked away from her, turning back into his statue of a guardian that he was so good at being. 

“Can we talk, Edward? Just for a second. Come sit down,” she said as she bent down in her cream pencil skirt on the patio steps, patting the spot behind her. He hesitated for a moment, glancing around as if to make sure Francis wasn’t looking out the window. After a few seconds he walked over, breaking his resolve, and sat down next to her. Their bodies sat only inches apart on the small brick step.

Claire and Edward sat next to each other in silence, though Claire could almost read his thoughts through his tense body language. He wanted to ask her a million questions, about Francis, about herself, about their marriage and how they felt about him.

“You know, it’s been very hard for Francis and I recently. I’m sure you noticed I haven’t been on the trail,”she started calmly, more focused on observing Edward’s emotions that showing her own.

 The agent nodded his head. “You left. After you saw that mandala, you just walked out the door.” He shrugged, as if it was as simple as that.

“And what did you think? What do you think about-“ she gestured a circle in the night air- “all of this?”  She coaxed, wanting him to shed his stoic outer layer and tell him how he really felt. 

“It’s really not my place, ma’am,” he replied, holding his own emotions inside.

“Edward. Look at me.” He turned his face to meet Claire’s eyes. They were soft and forgiving, and expectant for a better answer. He knew that if he said anything but the truth, Claire would know.

He took a deep breath. “Honestly? I think when you guys are together, everything just makes sense,” he said, shaking his head as if trying to comprehend it himself. “But I also noticed that recently you seemed to be… spaced out, I guess. Like you went places with Francis but you weren’t really _there_.” 

"You’re very observant, Edward,” she remarked. Her voice sounded so perfectly smooth, and if she felt any type of resentment to what Edward had just confessed, he couldn’t tell. “That’s why I needed to talk to you. It’s about Francis."

Meechum didn’t respond but instead let his mind run through a thousand scenarios as to why Claire would need to talk to him about Francis. Did she know that he had gone back to pick up his father’s box? What if it was Claire trying to destroy Francis with that photo the whole time, upset about them splitting up? But Claire could never betray him like that, could she?

“Does it ever bother you… knowing what he’s done?"

Claire knew that Edward was a smart man, and had undoubtedly known at least some, if not all, of the ugly things that Francis had done on the way to the throne. He could certainly put two and two together, but she wondered if he would admit it to himself or preferred drilling a notion into his head that he wasn’t protecting a murderer. 

“He does what he needs to do,” Edward replied simply, leaving Claire’s eyes to look straight ahead of him, at some invisible man in the night. Claire can read him like a book.

"Do you really believe that?”

An image of Zoe Barnes flashed through his head.  

Edward sighed. "Not all the time. But I do my job. I protect him,” he said, hesitating for a moment before speaking again.

“…Sometimes I even think I love him.”

Out of all the people he would confess this to, he never thought it would be Claire, his wife. Perhaps it was due to the shot of liquor that he had just downed in the kitchen with Francis all of 15 minutes ago. But maybe it wasn’t. Claire was the only one who would really understand how he felt about him, and if anything, telling her how much Francis meant to him might help her realize how important he is to her, too.

He really wanted them to be together again, to be that deadly powerful couple that he so loved. And that loved him.

The night was the only one who spoke for several seconds, crickets chirping in the darkness. Claire’s face was solemn, but her eyes were sad.

“Love blinds you, Edward. It makes you weak.”

He was taken aback by her comment. He expected her to smile at him, or shake her head, or maybe even scold him, but not say that. Not call him blinded.

“If there is anybody who knows about this, it’s me,” she said, her voice raising slightly, gaining momentum. "Francis played me, Edward, just like he’s playing you.”

Meechum's heart squeezed in pain like it was being ripped out. But he remained silent, eyes wide as he stared at the ground. He half-wanted to yell at Claire to stop talking because he didn’t want to hear what she was saying. 

“Think about the times he’s hurt you. I know you want him to give you everything-" “But I know he can’t.” Edward replies, curtly cutting her off. Edward was a lot of things- solemn, quiet, loyal- but he wasn’t unrealistic.

Claire sensed deep sadness, or perhaps even disappointment, radiating from Edward. She inhaled deeply, but didn’t feel guilty. The image came into her mind of Francis grabbing her face with his rough hands.  _You would be nothing without me._ Chocking, suffocating. 

"Francis is a bad man. Perhaps that makes me just as bad for marrying him, but you’re hurt, Edward.” She placed her smooth hand over Edward’s and felt his body tighten at the action. His eyes still stared straight ahead. "I can see it in your eyes. And as much as you would like to convince yourself that you mean something to Francis, that he feels indebted to you, he doesn’t. He doesn’t owe you anything, but you would give him your life."

Edward felt insulted and offended, but felt like bursting out into tears more than anything. It wasn’t fair. Claire knew exactly which of his buttons to press- she knew what would make him hurt the most. She knew his weak spot was him not caring. 

He stood up. “You better go, Mrs. Underwood. Your car will be arriving soon.” And just like that, Meechum’s mask was on again, all business, no emotion. Claire ran her hands through her skirt, straightening it as she sat up. “Just remember, Edward, I’ll always be here if you need me. You’ll never be expendable. You deserve better than thinking you are.” She tilted her head as she stared at him, short blonde hair falling to the side. And then, just like that, she leaned forward and kissed him. 

It took Edward by surprise, and he almost thought about pushing her off of him. She tasted like poison, but her soft pink lips felt like heaven and radiated a comfort that he had missed. He leaned into her, indulging himself for a second, resting his hand on the small of her back as their lips intertwined.

Her kiss was more than just a kiss. It was a message, an intimate and twisted promise. Claire and Francis would never be on the same side again. And she wanted him to choose.

It was Claire who pulled away after a few seconds more, smiling. “Goodnight Edward,” she said as she walked down the steps. Edward watched the outline of her legs move through her skirt as she clacked in heels down the driveway. He didn't know if he felt disgusted or flattered.

The memory played in his mind of Francis’ voice in the kitchen. _Have I given you any reason to hurt me?_

Maybe Claire was right. Maybe he had.

Edward couldn’t see it, but Claire kept her smile all the way through her walk down the driveway. She knew all it would take is reassurance to get Meechum on her side. He was a man of silent thoughts, of mysterious pasts, but also of pained loneliness. Claire's need for Francis was her fatal flaw- but it was also Edward's. The least she could do was to make sure Francis didn’t take Edward with him on his long, lonely fall down. Plus, she needed him: he was the strongest ally she had in taking down the man who had done them both so much wrong. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> One more note: this fic was inspired by 2 things; 1) I rewatched the first few episodes of Season 4 and really got me thinking about Claire 2) I read an older kmmerc piece called A Cat's Business, and there's this awesome line where Francis wonders, ‘If Edward is protecting me, then who will protect me from Edward?’ And THAT really got me thinking. So shoutout to both lol. I'm sorry if this hurt anybody's heart but I was feeling Claire's inner Lady Macbeth side.


End file.
